


The Mystical Divinity Of Unashamed Felinity

by UniverseOnHerShoulders



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Book 063: The Good Doctor, Cats, Dorks, Gen, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 01:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19757896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseOnHerShoulders/pseuds/UniverseOnHerShoulders
Summary: After the Doctor creeps up on them one too many times, Team TARDIS decide to take drastic action. Drastic action involving a bus, a pet shop, and a bank card.





	The Mystical Divinity Of Unashamed Felinity

**Author's Note:**

> Pure silliness inspired by the quote from _The Good Doctor_ which forms the start of the work.

“We normally meet…” Tempika begins. 

“And just where do you think you’re going?” the Doctor drops down through one of the open archways and into their path. 

“Oh my days, I hate it when you do that,” Ryan says, clutching his chest with his hand and affixing her with a bemused glare. “We need to get you a little cat bell.”

* * *

“Where are we going?” the Doctor asks for the thousandth time that morning. She’s being remarkably good natured about this all, Yaz supposes, considering she’s usually the one in charge and with a plan.

Not this time. This time, the TARDIS had landed in Graham’s front room, and the three of them had immediately proposed an idea to the Doctor; a kind of game, as they’d worded it. A _fun_ game. A _finding-things-out_ game. The kind of thing the four of them usually did together, and in space. Standard day out, really, only Sheffield was a lot more overcast and grey than the usual alien planets and space stations they tended to favour. Yaz had actually feared the Doctor might combust with excitement at this point; the Time Lady had physically bounced up and down the room with joy, like a kid who’s had too much sherbet.

As for now; the Doctor has, for the most part, been trudging along beside them with her hands in her pockets – well, except for when she’s waving them around as she’s talking, which is most of the time – wondering aloud at the various sights and sounds with so much enthusiasm that Yaz can’t help but smile. When they reach their initial destination and Graham announces that they’re getting on a bus – a distinctly unglamorous mode of transport for someone who is more accustomed to nipping to the shops in a time machine – Yaz actually worries the Doctor might strain something in her face, she’s grinning that much. 

“Three returns to Crystal Peaks,” Graham says chirpily as they step onboard, swiping his bus pass across the top of the machine and then handing over a tenner to the driver. The Doctor is practically vibrating with excitement at his side, and Yaz has to catch hold of her hand to stop her from sprinting upstairs like an over-excited child. The driver affixes them both with a weird look, so Yaz shifts her hold to the Doctor’s wrist, offering him an easy, placating smile that she’s picked up at work. 

“She doesn’t get out much,” she says in her politest voice, and then tugs the Time Lady upstairs as the driver rolls his eyes and hands Graham the three tickets. 

“Oi!” the Doctor protests as they stumble to the top deck. “I do so! I get out _loads_ , it’s just not everywhere happens to be as interesting as Sheffield. And not everywhere happens to have double decker buses. Can we sit at the very front and pretend we’re the driver?” 

She tears off towards the – mercifully free – front seats without waiting for an answer, and Ryan and Yaz exchange a look. 

“It’s like having a small kid,” Ryan says with fond exasperation. “A really tall small kid, who happens to be good at saving the world.” 

“Nah,” Graham says with a grin. “You can put them rein things on small kids. That’d just look weird if we did it to her; and she might get stuck in them.” 

“I dunno,” Yaz muses, following the Doctor and plonking herself down beside her. “I can see the appeal of them.” 

“The appeal of what?” the Doctor asks, but Yaz can tell she isn’t really listening. She’s too busy looking around them, sat bolt upright and trying to look in four directions at once. 

“Urm,” Yaz feels her cheeks flush. The Doctor, as ever, doesn’t seem to notice. “Never mind.” 

“What’s Crystal Peaks, anyway? Sounds exciting. Is it like the Crystal Maze? I’m ever so good at that; the proper one, mind, not the fan version on TV. That one’s rubbish; I lost the first challenge when I had a go. The proper one? Phew. I’m telling you, me and a maze? That’s a sight to see.” 

“Well, you’ll have to wait and see about Crystal Peaks,” Graham says pleasantly. “Because it’s a surprise.” 

The Doctor’s smile gets, if anything, even bigger. “I _love_ surprises,” she enthuses, then drags them all into an awkward but affectionate hug. “You guys are the _best_.”

* * *

Crystal Peaks is not anywhere near as exciting or beautiful as the name suggests, but this doesn’t seem to discourage the Doctor one bit. She bounces along the pavement with them like an over-excited spaniel, talking away nineteen to the dozen about anything and everything that comes to mind. She doesn’t seem to need or want an answer, just an audience, so the three of them let her talk, content to let the sound of her voice wash over them as they approach their destination. 

At first, the Doctor doesn’t seem to even notice it. She keeps walking and chattering, and it’s only as the sign grows closer and closer and larger and larger that she tilts her head to the side and seems to see it for the first time. 

“What’s _Pets At Home_?” she asks curiously, then her expression lights up as an idea occurs to her. “On my god, is it like a little town for pets? Please tell me it’s a little town for pets. They have these cats on Uzuru-9 that live on houseboats, and it’s incredible. I bet I could introduce that here; I’d be a mastermind of their next architectural revolution.”

“It’s not a town for pets,” Ryan says flatly as they walk through the automatic doors, which elicit an excited look of their own from the Doctor. “It’s a pet _shop_.” 

This doesn’t seem to allay the Doctor’s enthusiasm, and she immediately bounds off towards the fish tanks that cover one wall. By the time Yaz and Ryan have caught up to her, she’s very deep in conversation with a clownfish – at least it _seems_ like a conversation, although the Doctor’s mouth isn’t making any noise as she opens and closes it. She sounds a bit like she’s drowning, or perhaps choking, and if it wasn’t for Yaz’s general experience in the area of alien languages, she’d have half a mind to try and attempt the Heimlich manoeuvre. 

“Doctor,” Graham calls from behind them, a touch out of breath from having to jog to keep up with the young’uns. “We’ve got things to look at.” 

“Yeah, like these fish. This particular little guy has some real problems,” the Doctor sighs sadly. “People keep calling him Nemo, and he just wants them to know that his name’s Steve. It’s definite clownfish racism; you humans think they all look the same.”

“Doctor…” Yaz begins, but the Doctor has taken a Sharpie out of her pocket and helpfully scribed _MY NAME IS STEVE_ on the front of the tank before any of them can stop her. “Doctor!” 

The Time Lady looks up at her then, her expression wide and child-like, but there’s a hint of mischief sparkling in her eyes “Yes?” 

“That’s vandalism, that is!” Yaz considers launching into a monologue about the law, then realises the inherent pointlessness in doing so and abandons the idea, instead letting out an embarrassed sigh. “Quick, c’mon, let’s move before they catch us.” 

They shift into the next aisle sharpish, and the Doctor’s face lights up as she realises that this one contains small animals. Her three companions notice this at the same time, and let out a simultaneous groan as they gaze down the seemingly never-ending row of enclosures and cages, all of which contain small, furry creatures of the distinctly cute variety. 

“Oh!” the Doctor crouches down beside an enclosure containing two lop-eared rabbits. “Oh, aren’t they beautiful?” 

“Very nice,” Ryan says patiently, feeling abruptly like a parent. “No, you ain’t having one.” 

“Ryan,” Graham says with mock seriousness, keeping his expression carefully deadpan. “That’s not very open-minded or compassionate. You never know, pet ownership could be good for her.”

“Yeah, Ryan,” Yaz continues. “A rabbit’s a big responsibility. You’ve got to feed them, clean up after them, interact with them…” 

“Bit like having a step-grandson,” Graham says thoughtfully, but before Ryan can protest, the Doctor interrupts. 

“Or like having you three,” she says sweetly, keeping her eyes locked on the rabbit. “Only smaller. And fluffier.” 

“We are not buying you a rabbit,” Yaz says in her best police officer voice, combining it with her mum’s most stern tone and arriving, she hopes, somewhere near the right level of bossiness to discourage her friend’s fledgling hopes of filling the TARDIS with small animals. “We’re here to look at something specific.” 

“Do we have to?” the Doctor whines, her tone petulant. “I want to look at the rabbits.” 

“Yes,” Yaz takes her by the hand again and half-leads, half-marches her over to the aisle they’d come here for. 

_Cat Accessories,_ reads the sign, and the Doctor’s gaze flicks up at it, her eyebrows knitting together in consternation.

“What-” the Doctor begins, finding herself brought to a halt in front of a row of cat collars. Some of them are brightly-coloured; some of them have neat little name-tags hanging on them, waiting to be engraved; one of them even has a tiny bow-tie attached. All of them have one very important addition. “Why…” 

“Right, we said you needed a bell, and we ain’t joking,” Ryan says firmly, folding his arms and attempting to look serious. “So, pick a collar. Any collar.”

* * *

The compromise – because it turns out that millennia-old Time Ladies don’t take well to wearing cat collars for the benefit of their pet-humans-slash-companions – is that the Doctor agrees to announce her presence with a cough, or a rustling of her coat. It’s much less funny, and much less _fun_ in general, but the three of them have to accept it with a begrudging sigh, as it’s better than the constant heart attacks that they’re currently victim to on a nearly daily basis, travelling as they do with someone who purports to be the second-ever ninja.

“Still,” the Doctor says brightly on the way home, looking around at her sulking companions with a mischievous grin. “There’s always Halloween. I’ve always wanted to dress up on Halloween and go out and collect sweets. So, you know… never say never.”


End file.
